


The General's Keeper

by the_dangerous_ginger



Series: Destiel Smut Drabbles and Ficlets [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Freeform, Grace Play, M/M, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:37:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6412981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dangerous_ginger/pseuds/the_dangerous_ginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Righteous Man ascended to Heaven and seduced its greatest warrior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The General's Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> ~K

Peace settles over you as you find him.

You knew you would.

  
He's always here, sitting in The Garden at the foot of The Temple, when he isn't twined with you in bed.

  
You take your place beside him, reveling in the warm fingers that curl around your waist. It's somewhat protective but a mostly grounding touch that makes you stand tall at his side, in your rightful place.

  
The others around him dip their heads in acknowledgement and respect, and carry on with their conversation.

  
In a time not so long ago, malicious whispers carried through the air when The Keeper arrived.

The Righteous Man ascended to Heaven and seduced its greatest warrior. 

It was not taken greatly in the beginning.

Those times were, blessedly, over after many had fallen by a blade for their blasphemous speak.

  
No one dirtied the name of The General's Keeper.

  
Now, you stand proud, wrapped in white gossamer and silk, gathered and swung low at the hip.

Your chest is bare with the exception of the leather cord that hangs around your neck.

A bright blade made from your beloved's grace is secured around your thigh, a threat and a promise rolled into one.

  
You do not shy from the hungry eyes that roam over you when you enter a room, but only bloom under The General's gaze.

  
Blue eyes regard you warmly and a small whisper of a smile rests upon The General's face.

  
It fills you with sweet joy to see him relax a fraction.

  
The Garden is warm, as it always is, but there is a looming promise of rain on the horizon.

It's due time for a shower so the flowers may continue to grow.

Belatedly, you wonder if the two of you will stay in The Garden anyway.

A part of you hopes you will.

The fingers at your waist tighten a fraction and you know The General has heard your wish.

  
With a low murmur and a flurry of adieu, the others melt away and the roll of clouds inches closer.

  
The General stands as well and takes your hand, guiding you to the center of The Garden.  
There is a sitting place there, large enough for the two of you.

  
When you arrive, he releases the silver tie at your hip, leaving your silken confines to melt away.

You are left bare to warm air, but you do not cower. The blade is still strapped to your thigh, where it will stay until The General removes it.

  
He places his weaponry on the far end of the sitting place and gestures for your assistance.

  
You help remove him from his heavy silver cuirass, pauldrons, and gauntlets, laying them aside with care.

He steps back and casts away his faulds, cuisse, and greaves on his own.

  
Once bare as well, he gathers you in his arms and brings you with him to sit.

  
With care, he removes the final barrier between you and lays the blade aside.

  
You fall heavier into him and curl close, breathing in the smell of him.

  
He is heady and pure at the base of his neck, long tendons stretching under his vessel's golden skin.

Light traces, more than just calloused fingers, travel down your back, making you shake just so.

  
You cling closer to him as the first tendril of cool grace snakes down lower than the rest, anticipation making you squirm a bit in his hold.

  
He soothes you with a kiss to the temple and coos in tandem with your whimper when it breaches you.

 

He is gentle and slow as always in the beginning, preparing you with the utmost care.

  
The tendril finds the sweetest of places inside you and rubs earnestly against it.

  
The General's name falls from your lips like a prayer and you seek out his.  
Teeth, tongues, and lips collide together sinfully and you moan.

  
Another tendril follows the first, pressing insistently.

  
You break away with a cry when the third pushes in immediately after, the pain palpable and exquisite.

  
The General watches with a new sort of gaze now, like the others before. It's hungry and filled with desire, but this time you don't dismiss it.

  
You keen under it.

  
Warm raindrops begin to land on your heated skin.

  
A whine escapes you when the tendrils recede, but you know to wait.

  
Your patience is always rewarded.

  
The General's vessel is all clean lines of strong muscle and sharp angles, and very much well endowed.

 

When the blunt head presses into you, you inhale sharply and turn your head to the sky, sinking lower until you fear you may lose the ability to breathe from being so full.

  
More drops fall onto your face and lips, making them glisten temptingly.

  
Once you are fully seated, it's The General's turn to cling to you tightly, burying his head in the space over your heart.

A long, shuddering groan emanates from him and vibrates the ground beneath you.

  
Neither of you move for long moments as you adjust, and the rain falls steadier around you.

  
His gaze locks onto yours and the sweetness is gone, replaced by the primal hunger always lying underneath his guise.

  
With a quick nod, you let him ravish you.

  
He grips your hip with one hand and tangles the other in your hair, using them as leverage to take what he wants.  
You writhe in his lap, nipping and suckling at every available inch of skin near you.

  
The rain falls harder still, soaking you both, clinging to his lashes as he looks up at you with azure eyes.

  
A particularly hard thrust makes you cry out and climb higher.

  
He thrusts faster, building a relentless pace and soon you are shaking uncontrollably.

  
The command falls from his lips just as you reach your peak and you spill across his and your own stomachs.

  
He follows after you and the ground quakes violently. Bolts of blinding lightning spear through the sky and a second wave takes over you, stealing your vision away.

  
When it returns you are no longer in The Garden.

  
You are lying in bed with him, and his fingers are on you again, tracing over your still damp skin.

  
A smile stretches across your face and you pull him closer, pressing your lips to his.

  
You pull away and sigh softly when he speaks to you reverently.

  
"Hello, Dean."

  
"Hey, Cas."

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Let me know!
> 
> ~K


End file.
